Though country music and bluegrass intersect at points, no informed listener would confuse the two. Still, it is true that what has been known since the 1950s as "country" -- representing a Southern-accented pop with multiple influences -- can trace its roots to Appalachia. In the present century, however, that means little; most successful Nashville-based singers care more about their next hit than preservation of a tradition about which, in any event, only a relative few know anything. On the other hand, bluegrass grew out of mid-century Grand Old Opry star Bill Monroe's determination to create a contemporary genre that could not have existed outside the shadow of oldtime string bands. Thus, the bluegrass repertoire features occasional authentic folk songs and fiddle tunes, reimagined in sprightly new iterations.

In fairness, I should acknowledge that country, under various names over the century of its recorded presence, has developed its own traditions. There is even something known, in fact, as "traditional country," which is a honkytonk-themed and -influenced approach for which Hank Williams and Lefty Frizzell were the most obvious inspiration, though scholars of vernacular music believe the sound's origin is in working-class bars that served oil-field laborers in post-World War II Texas. The first honkytonk songs arose from once-popular but no longer financially sustainable Western-swing orchestras. The smaller, stripped-down bands removed both the jazz elements and all but a handful of players.

If my pocket history rehashes facts you already know, you will not need more than a single listening to comprehend what Trey Hensley's Can't Outrun the Blues is up to. If you didn't know yet possess discerning ears, you will likely decide that wherever it comes from, this is exceptional acoustically based music by a distinctive artist. You may even sense that Hensley is on his way to the forefront of bluegrass's coming generation.

Hensley possesses what I think of as a rolling baritone, not the sort of thing one ordinarily associates with bluegrass; still, pretty impressive. What he does is akin to, though different from, what genre pioneers Jim & Jesse McReynolds did with heart songs, a development from 19th-century parlor ballads, integrated into the bluegrass of later decades. For his part Hensley fuses -- with the occasional excursion into folkish sounds, namely Neil Young's "Unknown Legend" and Robbie Robertson's "Up on Cripple Creek" -- bluegrass and honkytonk. There are many, many bluegrass recordings, and I've heard my share, but I've never enjoyed any quite like this one, at once familiar and innovative. Much of Blues can be placed in both categories as exemplary examples of each.

Even so this is a modern, not a revival, approach. Blues and jazz touches emanate from the assorted accompanists, who include prominent pickers and vocalists Molly Tuttle, Vince Gill, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Stuart Duncan, Andy Leftwich, Steve Wariner and more. Hensley contributes, as both solo composer and coauthor, the bulk of the material. That ranges from solid to outstanding ("High Cost of Goodbye," "Tucson," "Drown"). There are no clunkers. And Hensley deserves a tip of hat for unearthing a Merle Haggard obscurity, "Silverthorn Mountain," which most listeners (including this longtime Hag fan) will not recognize but will welcome into our lives.